


Amelioration

by z_annie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/z_annie/pseuds/z_annie
Summary: Following the war, Hermione Granger finds herself at back at Grimmauld Place, trying to heal. Sirius Black takes interest helping a young woman put the fire back in her eyes.AU: Sirius and the Lupins live.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting unbetaed for the moment

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

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She woke with a crick in her neck and a thin sheen of sweat over her face. This was happening frequently these days due to her nightmares and night thrashings, but on this morning, it was particularly pronounced because she, Hermione Granger, had fallen asleep with her head crammed into the side of the sofa armrest in the library of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. 

She had taken refuge in the old townhouse following the war, and the devastating news that her parents, who despite all of her efforts, would likely never remember their daughter.   
The initial throng who’d flocked to the old ‘headquarters’ had thinned considerably in the weeks that Hermione had been away; the Weasleys (sans Ginny) had returned to the Burrow to try to heal as a full family unit now that Percy had returned. Harry and Ginny found a flat in Hogsmeade where they spent their time healing with one another, and the Lupins had returned to their cottage to spend time with their adorable son.  
And so it was, that when Hermione Granger turned up on the doorstep of Number 12, she found that it was only she and Sirius who would be living in the house.

She sat up from the comfy chesterfield sofa and stretched, hearing several audible cracks in her neck and back. Apparently, lying down to read a book after a glass of Firewhiskey had been a bad idea. Kicking off the soft, fleece blanket around her body--_wait...what?_ She hadn’t had a blanket when she’d fallen asleep. Hermione clambered off the couch with all the gracelessness of early morning and nearly stepped on a small glass vial that she’d knocked off the coffee table in her hasty removal of the blanket. Reaching down, she grabbed it and read the label, **Muscle Pain Relief**. It was as if her body had been plunged into a pool of icy water. Sirius Black had clearly found her in the library sleeping like a squashed bug against the side of the sofa probably looking a fright. He was enough of a gentleman to transfigure her a blanket and find a potion for the impending ache in her neck, but she was sure that he’d think her a silly little girl with no alcohol tolerance and unattractive sleeping habits. 

Hermione had been harbouring a bit of a crush on the handsome animagus for some time, though she’d only come to realize it a few short weeks ago when he welcomed her into his house with a smile and the reassurance that she was always welcome. He was warm and courteous when they passed each other in the hallways, but as Grimmauld was a large place, she didn’t see much of him...until two nights ago. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
_Two Nights Prior_  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------

When she’d walked into the library to find that a man had taken up residence in her favorite spot on the sofa, she had a brief internal battle over whether or not she should walk in and join him. Deciding against spoiling his privacy, she turned to walk back through the door she’d just traipsed through, but the squeak of her sock-footed pivot alerted him that he was no longer alone.   
“Hermione! Please don’t leave on my account. I came here hoping for some company actually if you’d be willing to oblige me.” Sirius turned to face her, a gentle smile on his face.  
“I figured that I’d find you in here at some point.”

“Quite.” She gave a half-hearted smile at his teasing tone and took a seat in a wingback chair opposite him.   
“Is everything alright, Sirius?” she asked interestedly. 

“For the most part, yes, everything is alright,” he responded with a sigh and a sort of sad smile.

“For the most part?” Hermione became anxious at his expression. It was unlike Sirius to confide in her, or anyone for that matter, he’d become a bit solitary following the end of the war. 

“Yes, I hope you will pardon my candor, but... I’ve become a bit concerned about you.” He held her eyes earnestly and his expression did not change as her brow furrowed in slight indignation.

“I assure you that I am perfectly fine, thank you.” In her slight discomfort, she crossed her arms and reverted to a stiff formality.

“Hermione, if you wish me to drop my line of thought, I will do so, but I ask you to hear me out first.” At her curt nod, he continued. “You are still healing from the war and I understand that, but you have not seen or been in contact with your friends in weeks, you have turned down prior commitments in favor of sitting here in this depressing old library, you are not eating enough at mealtimes; if you even decide to come down, and well... your eyes... you look like something is haunting you.” He spoke his last point as little more than a whisper.   
“I’d like to help you with whatever that is.”

Hermione sat dumbfounded and unsure of what to say, when she finally felt the urge to respond, she found that her throat wasn’t capable of letting the words pass.

“I know about Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione looked away from him quickly as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She tilted her chin upwards to delay the first tear from falling as long as she could. _It’s over. I’m fine. Others had far worse to deal with than I did_. 

She refocused her gaze forward to find him standing before her, hand outstretched in a silent invitation. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet, and as she couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes, she fixed her eyes on the buttons of his waistcoat as he pulled her into a tight hug. With her cheek pressed against the velvet on his chest and the back of her neck being gently stroked, she felt safer and more supported than she’d had in years. She allowed the tears to flow until she couldn’t produce any more, confident that the man holding her would not call her weak, or tell her to move on. This perhaps, was the biggest comfort that Sirius Black had to offer her.

“How about I put on the kettle and you tell me whatever you're comfortable talking about?”

====================================================


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Sirius' take on the last chapter.

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The girl was clearly hurting, there was no doubt about that. She was so completely out of sorts that without the physical likeness, he didn't know whether or not he would be able to discern that the witch who'd fought a war, and the witch haunting his hallways were, in fact, the same person. For the first few weeks, he gave her some space, but after a while, he grew concerned at her   
behavior.

Two nights ago, Harry had been by for dinner and Sirius aired his concerns to his godson when Hermione didn't come down to join them. With nice, albeit oblivious intentions, Sirius had invited Harry over as what he thought would be a nice surprise for Hermione. She'd had yet to catch up with her friends since her return, and Sirius wanted to do something nice for her.

It became clear to Sirius in speaking to his godson that Harry wasn't in a hurry to catch up with Hermione either. He felt for her and her difficulties, but hearing her cry and scream from the dungeons, completely helpless was a bit of Harry's own trauma to heal from. The young man had looked incredibly uncomfortable as he recounted their experience in Malfoy Manor, and once his godson had left, Sirius solidified his intent on opening up a dialogue with the witch.

His best guess as to her whereabouts was the library in which she spent most of her time, so he turned to start up the stairs to the third floor, but directly to the right of the staircase, the drawing-room door stood ajar. Something was pulling him into the room and as he stepped inside, he saw it-or rather, her; the gaunt, deranged face of one Bellatrix Lestrange neé Black 'permanently' affixed on the wall. Sirius Black had never been more disgusted with his surname than in that moment. He felt searing anger rise from his chest up to his neck and temples as he stared around at each face. Every set of eyes (that had not been blasted off the tapestry) looked smug as if taunting him for sharing their looks. They were well and truly Black; black hair, black hearts, a black stain on wizarding society. At that moment Sirius wanted nothing more than to be parted with his name and his features.

In an incredibly controlled outburst of rage and magic, the family tree ripped itself off the wall, severed itself into squares around each face, and succinctly folded the scraps of wallpaper into hundreds of paper cranes. He searched for the cranes containing Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora Tonks, Remus and Teddy Lupin, and his uncle Alphard (the one that left Sirius his fortune once he'd run off), and set them aside on a table.

"Incendio," he murmured as he pointed his wand into the hearth at the opposite end of the room. The fire danced, it's flames greedy with anticipation. With a flourish of his wand, the troops of origami birds glided beautifully, resolvedly into the waiting blaze. Sirius watched as each and every scrap of paper was incinerated, but he still didn't feel separate enough from the depictions he'd just burned. He was overwhelmed with the desire to do something good, something helpful. He would go find Hermione.  
Satisfied with the mountainous pile of ash in the grate, Sirius Black shut the door on The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, permanent sticking charms be damned.

She wasn't in the library when he'd finally cleared the last stair and peered around the door frame, so he sat down on the sofa and waited for her inevitable arrival. _What am I really meant to say to her?_ he pondered. _"Hermione, are you alright?" That was completely tactless. "How are you faring since the war?" I already know the answer; not well-_

His line of thought was interrupted by the distinctive squeak of socks pivoting on the floor and whipped his head around to be faced with the back of hers.

"Hermione! Please don't leave on my account. I came here hoping for some company actually if you'd be willing to oblige me." She turned and hesitantly walked into the room.  
"I figured that I'd find you in here at some point."

"Quite." He could tell that her smile was a bit forced at his light teasing.

"Is everything alright, Sirius?" she asked.

"For the most part, yes, everything is alright," he responded, though everything was most certainly not alright.

"For the most part?"

Sirius watched her eyebrows raise in concern, and decided to stop belabouring the point.  
"Yes, I hope you will pardon my candor, but... I've become a bit concerned about you."  
"I assure you that I am perfectly fine, thank you." She crossed her arms and Sirius was very briefly reminded of Minerva McGonagall when Hermione's features steeled.

"Hermione, if you wish me to drop my line of thought, I will do so, but I ask you to hear me out first." After her small nod of acknowledgment, he continued. "You are still healing from the war and I understand that, but you have not seen or been in contact with your friends in weeks, you have turned down prior commitments in favor of sitting here in this depressing old library, you are not eating enough at mealtimes; if you even decide to come down, and well... your eyes... you look like something is haunting you." His throat constricted at the end of the sentence as he contemplated the young woman.

"I'd like to help you with whatever that is." And this was the truth, Sirius Black wanted nothing more than to be of help to someone.

"I know about Malfoy Manor."  
The words had left his lips before he was really cognizant of them. _Well played Sirius, you berk. Now she can't even look you in the eye._ A sinking feeling grew in his chest as he watched the tears well up; had he reminded her of another pair of eyes, not unlike his? Was she looking away because she saw his cousin reflected when she looked at him?

Unsure of his footing after his blunder, Sirius stood up and strode towards her and held out his hand. The young woman took it and leaned into him for comfort. He cradled her head and neck in one hand and held her tightly to himself with the other. And she, Hermione Granger, the princess of Gryffindor, and the most brilliant and formidable witch of the century, let him. She didn't shy away, she didn't refuse him. She let her body completely relax as she no longer tried to choke back the tears. She let him feel helpful and protective. This perhaps, was the biggest comfort that Hermione Granger had to offer him.

“How about I put on the kettle and you tell me whatever you're comfortable talking about?”


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry this has taken me so long to update, I’ve had some health complications recently, but hopefully now I can get back on track.**

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\-------------------------------------------------------

The day between their initial conversation and Hermione’s slightly hungover realization went as usually as could be expected after two people share a vulnerable and heartfelt moment. She’d walked down to the kitchen not long after waking despite having much preferred a lie-in. But as she’d remembered that he’d made note of her other absences, she figured it’d be best to let him see her for a meal. 

Breakfast was slightly awkward, neither really knowing what to say to the other, and thus, settling for silence as he ate his usual fry-up from Kreature (who’d made a miraculous turnaround after a change of behavior from Sirius) and she forced herself to nibble on some toast.

A tap at the window alerted them to the arrival of the Daily Prophet which Hermione perused as Sirius walked into the foyer to await the morning’s entertainment. He pulled open the moth-eaten velvet covering his mother’s wretched portrait and then stared to the opposite end of the hall at the door. After the war had ended, there had been no need to keep the Fidelius charm on the house. He promptly broke it and bought a subscription to the Guardian. The muggle postman deposited the newspaper through the ornate mail slot, only for Sirius to hear the poor man jump as the scandalized screaming began.

_“Abhorrent, traitorous child of my bearing! Allowing the extremities of filth and grime to touch the letterbox of the house of my fathers! How dare you concede to the flesh of such horrendous beings disgracing the exterior”_  
Sirius yanked the pulley affixed to the curtains, and once Walburga Black was thoroughly pacified, smugly rejoined the young woman in the kitchen and sat to complete his morning crossword.

But before he could begin, he quickly noticed the look of consternation on the face opposite him.

“Hermione? Is everything alright?” His words didn’t register for Hermione for nearly a minute.

“Hmmm...Oh, yes, well no, I’m not sure,” she paused and chewed her lower lip distractedly before continuing. “The Prophet’s reporting that Hogwarts is severely short-staffed, and may not be able to open this year.” She continued on her train of thought.  
“They already have enough children that were unable to attend last year who need to redo their year, not to mention that nearly everyone needs their previous year’s defense class repeated. Imagine if an entire year of students was double the number of the other years because it contained this year and next year’s round of eleven-year-olds.”

“What are the positions that need filling?” Sirius asked interestedly.

“Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Muggle Studies,” she replied.  
“Oh and Transfiguration because Professor McGonagall has been reinstated as headmistress.” 

“Merlin, that’s fair few,” he muttered. Suddenly struck by an interesting idea, he expressed it aloud. “You should write to Minerva about occupying one of the posts.” 

“Sirius, that’s ridiculous, I haven’t even sat my N.E.W.T.s yet.” 

Sirius gave a short bark of laughter.  
“I don’t think that Minerva or the Ministry would be terribly bothered about that after what you three went through last year.” His tone and features softened thoughtfully. “But I suppose you have never been one to bend the rules.” He paused to consider something, then continued. “You could decide on the one you’d like to go after, then sit the exam at the Ministry I imagine. It’s how all the home-schooled witches and wizards do it. I believe they take place monthly.”

“You seem to have it all figured out then,” she said lightheartedly but with enough edge in her voice to tell him she didn’t wish to continue on the subject.

“Just think about it, would you?” He spoke earnestly.

She cocked her head and appeared to be thinking about his request, then she nodded and continued with her perusal of the Prophet.

“Protector, support, safeguard,” Sirius spoke after a stretch of silence.

“Sorry?”

“Seven letters; protector, support, safeguard.”

“Ah, any letters?”

“The last is ‘K’.”

Sirius watched the young woman chew her lip for a moment in thought before a smile came over her eyes, then her mouth.

“Bulwark.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Hermione’s morning was fairly typical in that she spent it in the library. She grabbed a few books on advanced Charms theory, after trying to mentally convince herself that it was not in the interest of the suggestion a certain handsome wizard had made at breakfast. 

When she walked back down to the kitchen for lunch he saw a note scribbled on a bit of spare parchment.

Hermione,  
I have gone out to run some errands and will be gone until this evening.  
I have also asked Kreature to fix you whatever you like for lunch.  
See you soon,  
Sirius

“Kreature?” she asked timidly. There was a tiny crack behind her.

“You was calling Kreature, Miss Granger?” the elf asked mildly.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like some soup for lunch, I don’t really have any specific preference.” 

“Kreature was once known for his Cream of Mushroom soup if that is agreeable to Miss?”

“Yes Kreature, that sounds lovely, thank you.” She absently watched the elf prep lunch for her, admiring the skillful usage of nonverbal magic and listened as he hummed (rather off-key).

After her delicious lunch, Hermione returned to the library for the afternoon to continue her study and note-taking, a rather useful habit, she’d developed.  
The day turned to dusk, and dusk turned to night. Sirius had not returned yet.  
In the niche of a shelf in the bookcase sat a bottle of Ogden’s finest and a few glasses. Hermione stood and poured herself a dram to occupy her time while she waited for Sirius to return. She took up her seat on the sofa and nursed her drink as she read. Slowly, she started to shift. First, she put one leg up, then the other, and eventually she fully succumbed to lying down. Her half-empty glass of firewhisky sat forgotten against the foot of the sofa as she let herself fall into the soft leather, eyelids drooping. 

================================================


	4. Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Sirius Black didn’t fancy himself an easily shocked wizard, but walking into the library and sitting in his customary leather armchair to find a sleeping Hermione Granger lying opposite him with her face smushed up against the sofa, rendered him speechless. Which was in fact, a good thing, considering her slumbering state. The girl had been imbibing a bit of an old bottle of Ogden’s he’d left lying about, as was evidenced by the crystal tumbler near one of the sofa legs. _She’s really warped herself into a strange position,_he noted with some amusement. _She probably won’t be too comfortable when she wakes._

He removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and with a swish of his ebony wand, it became a blanket of the softest fleece (he’d always had an aptitude for Transfiguration). Adept as he was with Transfiguration, Charms was another matter entirely. He knew that there were charms that would have allowed him to reposition Hermione without waking her (used commonly by healers), but he didn’t dare try them for fear of accidentally hurting her. Instead, he contented himself with putting the newly transfigured blanket over the young witch, summoning a potion to relieve her of discomfort in the morning, and casting a few simple warming charms onto the blanket.

Standing over her for a moment, he wondered at the tugging sensation in his chest as he looked down at Hermione’s slumbering form. _Protectiveness? Affection? Maybe…_ But he couldn’t even bring his inner voice to say the last word floating in the depths of his subconscious.  
He decided not to invade her privacy any more than he already had and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind himself.

The warm colors in his room created quite the cozy space. As a boy, enamoured with the ambience of the Gryffindor Common Room, he came home from his first year and spent the summer building himself a little ‘lion’s den.’  
After, readying for bed he sat on the bench at the foot of his four-poster and reflected on the day.

\----------------------------------  
_Earlier_  
\------------------------------

Sirius found himself a seat in the familiar pub, waving his thanks at Rosemerta who floated a chilled butterbeer over to his booth. He waited for all of five minutes before the familiar brogue of the witch he was meeting sounded behind him.

“Sirius Black, this is quite the surprise. I must admit I was pleased to receive your owl this morning. The preparation up at the castle has been most taxing, this year especially…” Sirius stood up from his seat immediately in a manifestation of the aristocratic manners that had been beaten into him in his younger years.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Prof-M-Minerva,” he caught himself from the slip. Minerva McGonagall’s slightly severe presence always tended to turn him back into a stuttering schoolboy hanging his head from his (usually well deserved) admonishment. Minerva gave him a small smile.

“These past few months seem to be treating you well, Sirius, you’re looking better each time I see you,” she paused for a moment. “ I hear Hermione Granger has also been living at headquarters with you for the time being?” Sirius nodded his affirmation. “Good, I’m just glad the girl has somewhere to stay. I’m sure Molly would have happily taken her in, but perhaps it’s better that she’s somewhere a bit...quieter.”

“Yes, about that actually...She has been a bit down lately.”

“Down in what way? You do realize we’ve all just lived through a war, the poor girl has seen and been through more atrocities than most people could ever dream of, I think she’s rather earned the right to be down.”

“Yes well, I would just like for her to feel better, to have some purpose again...she’s not been down for a handful of meals in the last week.” As soon as he’d spoken the words, a part of him regretted it, he felt like he was sharing something that wasn’t his to share. The older witch blanched.

“And you think I can help you?”

“She saw the advert that the Prophet ran this morning.”

“She’s interested in filling a position?”

“Well not exactly, but I suggested it to her and her only major hang-up seemed to be that she hadn’t sat her N.E.W.T.s yet. I was rather hoping that there was in fact, a way for her to complete those or the specific one that she would like to teach and that you would be open to the idea. Minerva studied him for a moment before replying.

“You’ve taken quite the vested interest in Hermione Granger it seems.” He couldn’t bring himself to counter her. _It is true, I suppose._  
“She would be eligible to sit her N.E.W.T.s at the end of this month or next at the ministry. And I’m always happy to welcome one of my cubs onto staff...Speaking of, you had quite the knack for Transfiguration, _Padfoot_.”

“Me? A Professor? After all the trouble I got up to in school?” he laughed jovially at her ridiculous insinuation.  
“You must be joking.” He sobered a bit after the look on her face told him that she was not joking.

“Certainly not, I’d think you quite well suited to it actually, you’d be far better at keeping track of the rule breakers, I’d say.”

“I’m unsure of what to say.”

“You could always say yes.” He considered the offer. _A Professor? Sort of mildly absurd...sort of mildly intriguing. I guess it’s not like I have much of a purpose now either, wandering around my mother’s horror show of a house._

“If I can convince Hermione that she’d do well, I would consider it very strongly.”

“Then I suppose I should plan on the both of you for the coming school year, you’re nothing if not persuasive. Let’s take a walk about the grounds and discuss, shall we?”

==============================================


	5. Chapter 5

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\------------------------------------------------

Hermione, flighty from embarrassment, fled the scene of squashed sleeping quickly in favor of her room. Unfortunately, her mind couldn’t flee the image she must have made. She had just gotten under her covers and melodramatically buried her face in a pillow, when a soft knock came from the outside of the door.

_Oh, kill me now_.  
“The door’s unlocked but I look a bit of a fright at the moment.”  
The heat in her cheeks was rising in droves in anticipation for seeing him. She flopped her face back into her pillow as she heard the door quietly open.

“Nonsense, you can’t have had that much to drink last night, the bottle looked rather untouched. Are you feeling alright?” his voice was gentle. Concerned no doubt, about the fact that he was conversing with someone whose face was planted in silk and down. Hermione knew it was terribly rude not to look up at Sirius, so she tried several times, but just didn’t have the courage to face him.

“Smplmemdimd.” 

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” _Of course you didn’t, because my mouth is currently pressed into a pillow…_ She finally peeled her face up from the pillowcase; cheeks burning.

“Yeah, I’m alright. And I’m sorry for drinking your firewhiskey.” She sheepishly met his eyes to find him standing next to her bed with the vial of **Muscle Pain Reliever** she’d knocked over earlier.

“I do believe that is the purpose of most beverages. Really though, Hermione, help yourself to anything you find.” He was still gentle in his address, but with some amusement now. She felt the shift in weight on the mattress as he sat on her bed, “I thought you might be needing this.” He held the vial out to her, and she gratefully took it from him.  
“I’ve sent Kreature out for some things this morning, so I’m afraid breakfast will be made by yours truly.” He looked down at his twiddling thumbs. “I’m not bollocks at it, but I would be horribly offended if you decided to forgo coming down for breakfast entirely, due to the chef.”

_Well played_, she thought. _Now I can’t skip breakfast again._

“Besides, I need to speak with you about something,” he said with a grin and a bit of pride in his eyes.

“Is that not what you’re doing right now? Speaking with me?”

He stood, and looking down at her, replied,  
“Yes, I suppose I am, but this way, I can see to it that you don’t skip breakfast again.”  
And with that, he turned and strode out of her room and down the stairs.  
_Merlin, am I that readable?_

Hermione readied herself for the day, wrestling her hair into a plait and changing out of yesterday’s clothes. Reaching the landing at the bottom of the stairs, she let her nose guide her into the kitchen. She wondered at her sudden appetite, but in truthfulness, she didn’t believe anyone with a working nose wouldn’t have had an appetite.  
Sirius’ wand lay haphazardly on the counter, completely forgotten as he slid some sauteéd onions, peppers, and mushrooms into a pan with eggs.

“Have a flair for doing things the Muggle way, do you?” He started a little at her words, but turned around with a warm smile.

“I’ve got a flair for doing things the _correct_ way, mind you.” She quirked a brow and cocked her head to the side.  
“Magic allows certain things to be done too quickly sometimes. When you wave you wand and your food is ready, you lose the anticipation, and thus, some of the enjoyment behind sitting down for a meal.”

“Well if it tastes half as good as the kitchen smells right now, I suppose I’ll have to agree with you.”  
It did. 

After a few bites, Hermione looked up expectantly.

“I know you’ll probably dislike that I took it upon myself to do something on your behalf, but I spoke with Minerava yesterday.”

She responded irritatedly, “Sirius, while I appreciate your concern for me-”

“I told her you weren’t sure about it.” He cut her off.  
This clearly was not what Hermione had been expecting to hear from the wizard.  
“I only asked after whether or not the opportunity was there if you decided that you wanted it. The answer is, of course, yes, provided that you sit the N.E.W.T for whichever subject you want to teach; you can do this at the end of this month or next at the Ministry.”

“Oh. Well...thank you,” she responded. She felt a bit silly for having jumped to conclusions.

“If it’s any influence on your decision, I think you’d be quite good at it.” She gave him a disbelieving look. “Really, what better for the brightest witch of her age to be doing than instructing the next set of young minds?”

“You just want me out of this house.” Her tone was teasing, but his look was not.

“Yes and no,” he replied honestly. Her eyes became large and nervous.  
“I don’t think that this house could be good for anyone. When you moved in, I told you that you will always be welcome to stay with me, Hermione. That has not changed.” He took her hand in both of his from across the table. They were silent for a while as he stared at her and she stared at their joined hands.

“Charms.”

“Sorry?”

“I think I might like to teach Charms. It was always my favorite.” He squeezed her hand between his, then lifted it, turned it over, and brushed his lips against her open palm.

“I’m quite chuffed that you didn’t say Transfiguration.”

“And why is that?” she asked, smiling through her slight breathlessness.

“Because Minerva,” he laid a kiss where he’d been nuzzling, “offered it to me as it was _my_ favorite,” he murmured, closing her fist as though the kiss he’d placed there was a secret meant to be hidden. With a last stroke of his thumb over her hand, he stood and retrieved his wand. Pointing at their finished plates, he floated them over to the sink where the other dirtied utensils were waiting. Another flick of the wand and a sponge started scrubbing all of the dishes.

“What happened to doing things the _correct_ way?” she teased.

“My dear, there is no such thing as having the washing up done too quickly.”

======================================


	6. Chapter 6

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\------------------------------------------------

“Is the exam entirely non-verbal,” Hermione asked the wizard sitting opposite her in his prefered wingback chair. He looked over his reading specs as he pondered her question.

“From what I remember, it’s similar to Transfiguration and Defense, in that there are not a ton of guidelines. They give a list of the things that must be accomplished within a given time limit, but how you do them, and the order in which they’re done is entirely up to you.” He paused for a moment, remembering a moment from times past. “James flew into a rather nasty little bate after botching his Charms final. The lads had snuck some butterbeer into the castle, and Prongs had one too many.” Hermione raised her brow as if challenging him,  
“I know what that look is about you cheeky witch, I did not imbibe a drop before my N.E.W.T.s. I did very much care about my results.

“How studious you must have been,” Hermione said dryly.

“Yes, eventually,” he agreed sincerely. “Once I’d run away, I realized that I was actually going to need to make a living in order to afford to live somewhere after school. Like most of the older students, we realised that Dumbledore was cultivating a group of witches and wizards in opposition to the dark. So I adjusted my behavior in the last two years, applied myself, and positioned myself where he could see me. We were all inducted into the Order straight out of Hogwarts. Remus, I understand. James was gifted enough I suppose even with his reckless tendencies, but Peter, it was difficult to believe even then.  
Anyway, James completed everything in half the time allotted, but with no finesse, and he sat down and waited for the rest of the time. Rather stupid really. Once he’d finished with the exam though, he must’ve woken from his hangover, because he did manage to pull out a respectable slew of N.E.W.T.s, four if I remember correctly.”

“How many do you have?”

“Nine.”

Hermione’s amber eyes were wide as saucers.  
“But..it always seemed...I never…” She seemed to realise that she’d spoken aloud. “That isn’t to say that you're not a formidable wizard because you are, I just-”

Chuckling, he replied, “No offense taken, Hermione. Except possibly the word ‘formidable.’ I do hope I’m not particularly fear-inspiring. That would be a rather unfortunate trait for a professor, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Snape was always fairly adept with teaching, even if he was a bit unfair.”

“Merlin, woman, are you really comparing me to Snape? I know that the dead deserve respect but, come now!”  
Hermione giggled.

“No, not really. And there’s nothing wrong with being formidable, I’ve always thought of it more as respect-inspiring, although I suppose the fear thing might have its merit as well.”

His heart seemed to miss a beat and his eyebrows rose in concern. A rush of white-hot self-hatred grew up his neck and into his head. My blasted face and its likeness. 

“I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the angry end of your wand,” she offered as an explanation. “From me, that is a compliment.”

Ah, thank the gods. He sighed in relief. “Miss Granger, I’m positively blushing,” he deadpanned. “In that case, you’re quite formidable yourself.”

“There’s nothing formidable about a Hogwarts dropout with no N.E.W.T.s. And no you’re not, you never blush. And that just really bothered you. Why?”

He filed away the self-deprecation to work on later in favor of giving her an honest answer.  
“My cousin.” 

“Which one of five hundred?” He could tell she was trying to lighten the heaviness of the question she’d asked. But he maintained his sincerity.

“The one that carved that horrible word into your forearm.”

“She’s dead, Sirius.”

_Might as well get it all out._  
“I hate that I look like her, like them all. Sometimes I’m frightened of reminding you of her.” Sirius busied himself with cleaning off his glasses to try to seem like he hadn’t just said something extremely vulnerable.

He looked up to find her standing in front of him, shifting from foot to foot, a sweet parallel to his actions only days earlier. He stood up and she took his hands.  
“You don’t frighten me.  
It’d be foolish to tell you that you share no physical traits, but truly, you are so far removed from that vile woman that it had never crossed my mind.” She held onto his hands as she spoke. 

He smiled at her, and took one of her hands and laid it atop his heart, holding it there with one of his own.  
“I can’t tell you how much I needed to hear you say that.” He paused. “ I really can’t stand this place anymore. I feel like just another Black walking around these dreadful halls.”

She walked up to him and wrapped her other arm around his middle. They both stood there, content to hold and be held. When he felt her head leave his chest, he looked down at her to find a devilish grin on her face.  
_Oh, this should be good._

“What if…” 

“Yes, Hermione?” He could tell she was dragging it out for dramatic effect.

“What if we cleaned it out…”

“Ok...”

“ And…”

“Yes?”

“And we rid it of all traces of magic...”

“Alright.”

“And then…”

“Hermione.”

“Then we listed in some Muggle newspapers.”

He couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed to the point of tears, burrowing into the curls of the brilliant witch in his arms. It was brilliant, there was no other word for it, it was completely brilliant.

“Can we shrink my mother down, and make her watch us hand over the keys?”

“Whatever you wish, dear.”

_Dear?_ He tried not to notice as his heart skipped a beat again, but he did notice, and this time, he liked it.


	7. Chapter 7

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

\------------------------------------------------

The weeks that followed were filled with equal parts preparation for the coming year, and setting fire to various tapestries. The more time she spent in his company, the more Hermione came to the realization that Sirius was very difficult to pin down to one attitude. They shared moments of vulnerability, a lot of quiet and focused time spent reading or studying, as well as time spent jovially enacting destruction in various parts of the house to dismantle centuries of dark magic. And they talked...a lot. But it was never obnoxious or grating on her nerves as it could be with Harry and Ron sometimes. He was a very clever man, quick-witted and bright, but also incredibly funny, and incredibly compassionate. 

She was quite surprised to find him telling the truth; he was quite studious, and even looked the part when he donned his reading glasses. Minerva had sent him the lesson plans that she’d used for her tenure which he poured over and made alterations to as he saw fit. Particularly, the idea of Gamp’s Law, and its exceptions, as well as separating the years into specific types of transfiguration, were two things he was concerned with consolidating. After several hours, and some input from Hermione, he settled on making sure that the Elemental Law of Transfiguration and a formulaic understanding of what creates powerful and effective transfiguration, would be the first thing covered in the first year, to set up a solid foundation for understanding the subject.

Trying to make sense of how and what to teach the older students who were in the midst of their schooling was proving difficult though. He decided that the first two years would adopt his new lesson schedule, whereas years three through seven, would be taught according to Minerva’s plans.

“I never thought much about it as a student, but her order of teaching things seems to be a bit incongruous.”

Hermione looked up from her study materials to reply.  
“How do you mean?”

“Each year she toggled between theory, the transfiguration of living creatures, of inanimate objects; even human transfiguration and conjuring spells are broken up over the later years.”

“I guess, I didn’t think much about it, but it does seem like it might halt the progress of each aspect when covered in segments, instead of in succession.”

\--------------------------------------

When Hermione was not studying for her N.E.W.T.s (she had decided to sit a few more than just Charms), she was also doing some revision of her own; to Flitwick’s lesson plans. Unlike the wizard sitting opposite her, however, she agreed with the order in which things were taught making her revisions a bit less time-consuming.

Suddenly, Sirius set down the pen and binder of papers he’d been holding onto a side table. Hermione looked up at the clatter.

“Hermione…”

“Yes?” Sirius fidgeted with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs. But he met her eyes with confidence and sincerity.

“I just wanted you to know how much I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks. It has truly been wonderful to get to know the brilliant witch you’ve become…” he trailed off as if he meant to say something else.

“I’m glad our friendship has grown as well, Sirius. I’m sorry to have previously misjudged you, you’re rather brilliant yourself.” He scoffed. “I must ask though; what’s brought this on?” she asked a still fidgety Sirius.

“I just thought you should know. I know that it has been difficult for you since the war ended. Voldemort made you sever yourself from one of your two worlds, and in turn, rely on the world that you chose to make up for that which you lost. No one can fill the void of your parents, and by no means should anyone try, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you and the young woman you’ve grown into. We all are,” Sirius paused for a moment, “And I’m sure they would be as well.”

Sirius felt the rush of blood to his face and ears as he finished his remarks. He noticed in a moment of panic, that her eyes were getting misty, and realized the familiarity of the situation.

_Sirius Black, in the library, with the lack of tact._

But she was smiling.

She got up from her seat on the couch, walked over to him, and held out her hand. He took it, but instead of letting her help him up, he tugged at her hand and patted his lap.  
Her eyes widened, but she obliged and sat so her back was to one of the arms, pressing her face into his neck.

“You must think I’m so weak that I never stop crying.”

“I have never thought you weak. Your tears are not only understandable but necessary,” he spoke softly.  
After a few minutes, he could hear that she’d stopped crying, but she didn’t make a move to get up. He felt her lips press just below his ear in a kiss. She laid her head back onto his shoulder and murmured her thanks for his being there for her and helping her confront her reality.

With a crack, Kreature appeared in the library to let them know that dinner was to be served soon. After taking in the sight before him, Kreature bowed and left with a smug grin.  
Sirius had never been more annoyed with the elf than he was at that moment.

\---------------------------------

That night Sirius found it difficult to sleep as he played through the events in the library.

_“I’m glad our friendship has grown as well…” Friendship? Do friends kiss each other and share armchairs? Do friends see each other the way I’m coming to see Hermione? She’s so young. She’s far too young to be so old and wise. She deserves better than the attentions of an old ex-convict. I should speak to Remus._  
He drifted off to sleep with a million thoughts in a busy mind.


	8. Chapter 8

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Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.

**Warning: Marshmellow--level fluff**

\----------------------------------------------------

“I’m confused.”

“Sounds like it.”

“What a help you are,” Sirius said with palpable sarcasm.

“Was I supposed to be helping you with something?”

“I was hoping you could help me, considering your experience with younger witches.”

The two schoolmates each had a customary pint in front of them, though neither had taken a sip. The barmaid was quite annoyed with them, as they’d been sitting there for over an hour, and would clearly not be needing refills. Sirius was watching his alcohol consumption, as he didn’t want to develop a habit (he’d felt dangerously close whilst trapped at Grimmauld with nothing better to do), and Remus...well, Remus was Remus. He wore cardigans, he loved his wife and son, and he only ever drank something other than tea if it was firewhiskey, and only on holidays. 

“Well, my experience consists of avoiding dealing with one such younger witch until she backed me into a corner in the middle of the Hogwarts hospital wing and made me see reason.”

“You were acting like a bloody coward,” Sirius mumbled.

“And what precisely are you doing here with me?”

“Asking for your advice.”

“When you could be polishing off some of the old ‘Black charm’ and wooing some pretty young Gryffindor? Padfoot came running out for a pint with his tail between his legs.” The sandy-haired man’s tone was teasing, but Sirius was uncomfortable.

“We’re not at school anymore, Remus,” Sirius said rather darkly. Remus’ eyes widened at Sirius’ tone. Sirius noticed his friend’s discomfort and softened a little. “I’m not that lad anymore. I don’t want to be. And Hermione’s no young witch that would fall for such scripted manners. Besides, there’s a part of the way I feel for her that I’m still having trouble making sense of.”

“What do you mean?”

“When all of this started, it was about helping her through her difficulties at the end of the war. And initially, a driving force behind it was trying to right my family’s role in her-”

“Sirius, you’re not to blame for any of that.” The two men sat in silence for a moment. “We cannot be held responsible for the actions of our relatives, that’s absurd. Is Lily posthumously responsible for her sister’s mistreatment of Harry?”

“I understand all of that, I just… it bothers me.” 

“I don’t think that there’s anything abnormal about the fact that it bothers you. It shows that you care about her. You should speak with her about it, though.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“She said about what you said,” Sirius said to his friend who was waiting to interject. Sirius held up his hand. “I need to be certain about where I stand. I think she reciprocates my interest. I don’t want a shred of what I feel for her to be coming from guilt or pity. She deserves that, I think.”

“Aye, she does. But how am I to help you?”

“What’s the difference between acting out of pity for someone, and genuinely wanting to help them?”

“Who’s to say that we’re not more apt to have compassion for those we love?  
If you’re speaking about the difference in semantics between the two words, pity implies that you see her as incapable, beneath you in a way. Which…”

“I don’t.” _Love? _“And what about the guilt? Can I hate being connected to someone that harmed her without it being guilt?” 

“You said that you understand that you’re not to blame for that, correct?”  
_Do I love her?_

“Yes.”

“Then in your own words, I don’t think a shred of what you feel for her is coming from a place that should make you uncertain.  
_Yes, I do. I care for her, I want to make her happy again, and I do love her._

\----------------------------------------

**Grimmauld Place: Library**

\----------------------------------------

“I want to become an animagus.” Sirius blinked. “Will you teach me how?”

“I...you...what?” _ No, no, no, no, no._

“I. Would. Like. To. Be-” she started to spell out for him, but he held a hand and waved it to quiet her.

“Yes, yes I heard you. Why? And right now?” Sirius was immediately filled with anxiousness. Despite being the one to have suggested it to James and Peter, he was filled with dread at her desire to try it.

“No, not right now you prat, I know that it takes a long time. I just wanted to know if you could help me? I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while now.”

“Hermione, it’s dangerous and-”

“And you’re going to be teaching Transfiguration in just over a month, it’ll be good practice.”

“Yes, but-”

“And I’m going to go through with it regardless of your answer.” _ Should have expected as much._

“You are, are you?” he asked resignedly. “Well, I suppose I’d rather you have some guidance if you are going to be adamant about doing it.” She looked a bit nervous at his lackluster response. 

“Are you unsure of my abilities.”

“No, my dear, I have every confidence in your abilities, but there are other factors that I worry about.”

“Other factors?”

“Yes, making sure your environment is undisturbed when you advance to each step so you don’t get distracted or disrupted, for example. It’ll make more sense once we begin.” 

“And when will that be?”

“When you’ve completed your N.E.W.T.s, we’ll treat it a reward for your inevitable ‘O’s in every subject you sit for,” at her put-out look he added, “It’s less than a week away, so no whining.”

“You sound like Snape.” He raised his brows and looked over his eyeglasses at her.

“No whining, please.”

“Yes, Professor Black.”

_She’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting._

“Best be careful, or I’ll give you detention for your cheekiness, Miss Granger.”

“I can be as cheeky as I wish.” She stuck her nose in the air in mock-indignation. “And I think you meant, Professor Granger, Professor Black.”

“My apologies, Professor.”

\------------------------------

**Grimmauld Place: Sirius’ Room**

\----------------------------

_Love...when did it start?_ Sirius changed into his pyjamas. The t-shirts relegated to this task couldn’t have been softer if he’d performed charms on them; the outcome of sleeping in them for decades.  
_I loved her when she was in school with my godson. I loved her in the way that an uncle loves and is proud of a favourite niece. I loved her for keeping Harry’s head on his shoulders, and all of his limbs attached to his body._ He climbed into bed and extinguished the fire in his hearth. Looking out over Upper street, and past it into London, the soft glow of light from the city filled his room.

_The love has shifted. My fondness for her is not rooted in her relationship with Harry. I notice that she’s beautiful and smart, and funny, and I worry for her and about her. I want to protect her, and I know that she’s too strong of a witch to wish for such a thing._

_I don’t think I’m completely in love with her, yet. I know that I’m not far from it, but nonetheless, should I even approach her about it until I am in love? Would she be more willing to engage with me if she knows that I can be in love with her? What is love exactly? How am I supposed to know if I’m in love?_ As slumber pulled him into his comfortable bed and pillow, he wondered if he wasn’t just as silly as a first-year with a first crush.

\-------------------------------

**Grimmauld Place: Hermione’s Room**

\------------------------------

Hermione readied for bed, pulling on a nightgown and turning down her bedcovers. She couldn’t tear her thoughts away from Sirius’ hug goodnight. It had become a regular occurrence for one of them to announce that they were going to retire for the evening, and the other to stand up and embrace them.  
_”I think I’m going to head upstairs now, Sirius.” He looked up from his reading and gave her a warm smile but did not stand._

_“Sweet dreams, Hermione.” He looked back down to his reading._

_“Do I not get my hug tonight?” He set down his papers and held his out his arms._

_“Well come here, then.” She seated herself sideways on his lap the way she had a few nights ago and leaned in. He laid a kiss on her temple, pulled back, and looked like he was about to say something which he seemed to think better of. He only said “goodnight,” which she took as her cue to leave._ Hermione thought that it was a little...tense, but not exactly in a bad way. _What exactly is love? I’m attracted to him, I care about him, I want to spend as much time with him as possible, he makes me feel safe and comfortable. I think I love him. I think I always have, just differently._  
============================  
**  
** AN: I’ve decided not to follow Queen JKR’s description of becoming an animagus...but I’ve got some stuff in mind to replace it. Also, I had been planning on adding the animagus stuff as a plot point since the beginning, and when one of you suggested it, it solidified for me, that it was the right idea, so thank you! :)  
~Z


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it was probably created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money off of this, I just need an outlet, and enjoy being a puppeteer every once in a while.**

**AN: Apologies for such a long time between updates, still dealing with some health stuff that is eating up a fair amount of my brain space. Hoping to get it all resolved so I can get back on track.**

**\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Wizarding Examination Authority Offices, Ministry of Magic, London  
\-----------------------------------------------------------**

Griselda Marchbanks was just as old and frail as Hermione remembered, and then some. The bones and veins in her hands were quite pronounced, her skin, papery thin. Her appearance was a complete contrast to the way she conducted herself. Standing upright and impeccably dressed, her voice was clear and unwavering as she spoke.

"It's so good to see you again Miss Granger, you showed such promise when I examined you two years ago, that I'm glad to see that you chose to continue your studies, even in such trying times."

Hermione had already completed all her of her N.E.W.T.s save for the most important one; Charms. All of the others had been proctored by Thaddeus Tofty, a wizard as old as Marchbanks, but with a voice and demeanor to match. In her defence practical, Hermione felt almost frightened to duel him, for fear that one good stunner would be the end of him. In the end, she went through with it and stayed on the defensive for a good while to show her skill, before going on the offensive. Tofty, beaming at her, told her she "had done very well, indeed." So well, it appeared, that Professor Tofty needed to rest, thus the reason that Marchbanks took over.

"First, I will give you one hour for the written portion. You may begin as soon as you like, the hourglass will start as soon as your quill touches parchment."

The exam didn't take half the hour, Hermione spent the other half double-and-triple checking her answers. She levitated it over to Marshbanks from her seat as the last grains of sand fell into the bottom of the hourglass. Marchbanks grabbed it with an amused smile.

"Like a young Filius Flitwick, himself. Charms was always a subject suited to the quick-witted and clever. Now if you would stand Miss Granger and face the far wall. I will be placing the instructions and materials for your practical examination on the desk. Much like your other practical examinations, your points will be determined based on the skill level, creativity, and finesse you display when completing the tasks."

Hermione heard the distinct sounds of squeaking behind her and wondered what her test subject could be, it had been a ministry owl for the transfiguration exam.

"The quarter-hour glass will begin as soon as you turn around."

On the desk was a large grey rat, a skein of yarn, and a small ration of cheese. Alongside the materials was a piece of parchment that read,

**In the next quarter-hour, cast the following:**

**Banishing Charm,**

**Cheering Charm,**

**Confundus Charm,**

**Growth Charm,**

**Levitation Charm,**

**Memory Charm,**

**Mending Charm,**

**and Summoning Charm.**

**You will need to dispose of all of the materials with the exception of the test subject before the time has run out.**

She lifted her wand and summoned the desk as well as all of its contents closer to herself and then levitated the yarn, causing it to unravel. Holding it suspended in midair, Hermione manipulated the yarn to form a maze shape and allowed it to fall onto the desk after which she performed a growth charm on it, and it grew into a rat-sized maze. All of this was done in one continuous fluid motion.

She led the rat through the maze, confounding it and casting obstacles, mending it when it injured itself, cheering it to boost its morale, even casting a wandless Sectumsempra (Marchbanks' eyes widened at the use of a severing charm she'd never seen before, different from the slower and more wrist-taxing Diffindo), to split the cheese into many tiny pieces which she strategically placed on the correct path to the center of the maze where she'd left the enlarged final piece. With only seconds to execute a memory charm before the rat reached the center of the maze, she altered its memory to think that it didn't like cheese, and the rat just sat there, uninterested in its prize.

"Retextus"

With more than a little trepidation, Hermione cast a charm that she'd been working on for a few weeks. It took inspiration from Priori Incantatem, but instead of only enabling a wizard to see the spells cast, it allowed certain spells to be reversed when the incantation, very concentrated thought on what the caster would like reversed, and the proper wand movement were all performed in tandem. The spell or charm would be undone, so long as the initial incantations didn't specify that the effects were permanent (The Killing Curse, Sectumsempra, etc). It also was separated from Finite Incantatem, in that it enabled spells and charms without a known counter-spell/charm to be reversed as well.

With this spell, Hermione had each of the objects returned to its original state, and the creature's memory restored before casting Evanesco on all of the supplies. With only a few measly grains of sand to spare.

"Wonderful wandwork, Miss Granger. I'm most impressed by your practical exam, this afternoon," the old witch exclaimed.

She collected the rat, vanished it to someplace unknown, and motioned for Hermione to follow her out of the testing rooms at the back of the ministry offices, and into the entrance of the department.

"I must ask after two spells I didn't recognize. The slicing hex was impressive to be sure, but even it was overshadowed by the reverse charm."

Hermione, smiling, responded, "The slicing hex was an invention of Professor Severus Snape-"

"He was a brilliant lad. A bit intimidating to be certain, but brilliant. And the other?"

"The other spell is something that I've been trying to improve as sort of an extension of the spell that auror's use to see a wand's recently executed spells-"

"My goodness child! You've invented a spell? At your age? I've only heard of ingenuity in one so young in the case of Albus Dumbledore."

"That spell from Severus Snape was...invented while he was in school as well."

"Than you are certainly among good company, dear. You seem uncomfortable with the word invent." At this moment, Hermione seriously considered whether Griselda Marchbanks could possibly be a Legillimens or distantly related to Luna Lovegood, but wrote it off as many years' experience and good observation skills.

"Do we invent spells if someone else could've reached the same conclusion and unlocked the same thing? It feels a bit like saying that magic was invented." Hermione was briefly self-conscious that she started sounding like the swot that lectured her friends when they asked a question.

"I guess I mean that it feels a bit more like discovery."

"I suppose you're right. A wise young woman, you are."

**\-----------------------------  
Grimmauld Place, Library  
\----------------------------**

Hermione stepped out of the hearth, dusted off her clothes, and looked around to see that the library looked differently from the way she'd left it that morning. At that moment, Sirius walked in holding a throw and levitating two mugs of tea and set them down on the coffee table.

"What's all this?"

"Good afternoon to you too, dear. How were your exams? Perfect as always I'm sure." He kissed her on the cheek by way of greeting.

"Where'd everything-?"

Sirius pointed to a shrunken stack of books and papers sitting on a nearby shelf.

"But-"

"Yes, my day was quite relaxing, thank you for inquiring."

"Sirius?" Hermione deadpanned half unamused, half very amused.

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"I told you that we'd celebrate the end of your exams, with your first lesson, did I not? And after thinking it over, I realise that it's futile to try to get you to abandon the idea, so I've given in. Please have a seat," he said, gesturing to the sofa.

She sat.

"Today I'm just going to explain the process to you. I'm sure you could find all you ever wish to know spread among several books, but as I've been through the process, I figured it would save us some time."

"I've already been reading."

"I know." He flicked his wand toward the newly-miniature pile of books and study materials.

"The process consists of a potion, a couple of spells, and a significant amount of patience and self-discovery. You may find that your Patronus shifts or is inaccessible to you for a time, you may find that you have days where you feel like you're not yourself, you may even find that you have days when you want to stop the process. All of this is valid and normal, but it adds up to what makes this one of the most difficult and dangerous pieces of magic possible. Once we start, it is possible to stop, but only with the proper execution, which is why I insist that you check in with me each and every day about how you are feeling, as regards this project." He sighed and gave her a very serious look.

"You must take care of yourself in order to sustain the amount of magical, physical, and emotional effort that it will take. If I feel that the way you care for yourself is slipping, I will have no hesitation in stopping the process until you are ready for it. I am not threatening you, nor am I trying to patronize you, I want you to succeed, but I couldn't live with myself if I allowed you to put yourself in harm's way."

Hermione gave a small nod of understanding.

"I have the potions ingredients collected and on stasis in a temporary lab in the drawing-room and we will begin brewing when it is time. The potion will correspond with however long your overall journey takes and will be a touchstone in step as you progress. Should you wish to start this evening-" he looked at her for another nod, "then you will perform your first round of guided contemplation this evening. You will cast a spell around yourself that I will show you in a moment, then continue to speak the words as a mantra, your mind will guide you in what to think of and why. This is tricky to explain but you'll just have to trust me. You must perform this every night, it will probably take no more than an hour, but it must be done or you could fall into a dream-like state. As relates to what I said earlier, should you wish to stop this process, it must be properly undone with another spell that I will teach you in a moment."

She nodded her understanding once more to show that she was listening intently.

"During these meditative periods, you may get the inclination to add to or affect the potion in some way. This is how you move onto the next stage of the transformation, each step will force you to address something about yourself that is holding you back from being able to access the animal part of yourself. At the end of it, your time in guided contemplation will prompt you to drink the potion and perform the spell one final time, and you will transform. Do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Very well. First I will teach you how to stop this process. Point your wand down and as you slowly drag it up your body and point it upwards you say 'Amato Animo Animato Animagus.'" He watched her perform the spell as he'd instructed.

"Good, now start at your head with your wand pointed up and work your way down saying the same incantation."

She did as she was told.

"I don't feel any differently," she said.

"No, the spell is just to enable you to be able to start the mantra which you may begin at any time within the next 24 hours."

Smiling she began to chant.

"Amato Animo Animato Animagus"

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**AN: May have gotten a bit carried away with the NEWT scene, but I love writing magic, and I wanted to give Hermione a chance to show off. :)**

**Also, I have a little bit of a name change on here... I accidentally sent an email to a professor with this email address and didn't want him to find this. I'm probably being paranoid, doubt he would actually google the name of a student's non-college-affiliated email address, but I changed it...just to be safe. :)**


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